I hate moving

The title is pretty self-explanatory. I hate moving. and yet, I'm doing it...AGAIN. It's been a little over a year since I made the BIG move from Florida back to New England. I settled into this apartment and swore I wouldn't move again for at least two years.


ooohhhhh self, you should've known better. You've moved every year since you started college many moons ago, why would this be any different?

So once again, I am packing my shit into boxes (and I have entirely WAY WAY WAAAAAY too much shit) and getting ready to move on Thursday...however, I do think this move will be different than previous years because I am not moving in/out of a dorm, I am not moving to a new state or even a new town. Oh no, I'm simply moving to a new street....2 streets away to be precise. While this may seem ideal to some and trust me, I'm super excited to be staying in my neighborhood, it's going to be the biggest pain in the butt I've ever experienced. for several reasons.

For those of you who are familiar with Boston, particularly the North End, we have a delightful summer tradition of "feast". Every weekend the masses flock to Hanover St to worship one Saint or another (and by worship I mean close down the largest street in the neighborhood in order to set up 93840923498324 fried dough, pasta and sausage carts while greasy Italian men from nearby suburbs try to hock all the cheap crap they couldn't sell at the flea markets). So, in true Marie-luck fashion, feast happens to start while I'm moving meaning Hanover St will be closed and the neighborhood will be ridiculously overrun with tourists, hardcore Italians and other general pains in the asses. Problem numero uno.

Problem numero dos lies in the actual apartment set ups. Holding near and dear to old school Boston architecture, both my current dwelling space and new digs feature spiral, walk-up staircases...and I do NOT live on the first floor (or the second for that matter). Have you ever tried shoving a couch down three flights of winding stairs only to bring it right back up a second set of winding stairs in a new building? When I moved in last time, my box spring was so jammed that we had to saw it in half and then re-bracket it back together once it was in my bedroom.

Problem numero tres is probably the most hilarious yet potentially fatally dangerous situation of them all. I looked to hire professional movers, however in reference to problem #1 and problem #2 it was going to cost me a small fortune to get someone to help me...and being the stubborn Irish shopaholic that I am, I just couldn't imagine parting with that much money for something that I've done so many times before. So I rented a U-haul instead....this is where the hilarity may or may not ensue. Being freshly single and moving mid-week, many of the strapping young men I would usually rely on are not available to help. I have enlisted the help of some gentlemen with muscles but they are meeting my roommate and I at our apartment. This means Jenny and I will be picking up the Uhaul and driving it to my apartment by ourselves. Now I realize many of you do not know me well. I suck at driving. a lot. I'm very much a fan of the words "oops", "shit", and "oh wow I didn't even see that there"....and this is when I'm driving my Toyota...not a 14 foot moving truck down the smallest, narrowest, winding-est (is that a word?) streets in the city of Boston. I'm contemplating leaving flyers on all my neighbors cars instructing them to park somewhere else for the day or else cross their fingers and say a prayer.

Needless to say this move is going to be horrible...but the end result will all be worth it. I will be gaining a new roommate, a much nicer apartment (heat included yaaay!) and be able to start saving money for the grad school I'm so desperately trying for...

stay tuned I will try and update this weekend post-move....if I'm not in jail for several hit-and-runs around the North End area. or dead.